Its murmur besieged his ears like the murmur of some multitude in sleep; its subtle streams penetrated his being. He felt with a smart of dejection that the man to whom he was speaking was a countryman of Ben Jonson. He gazed calmly before him at the waning sky, glad of the cool of the evening and of the faint yellow glow which hid the tiny flame kindling upon his cheek. --Art, said Stephen, is the human disposition of sensible or intelligible matter for an esthetic end.
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